Further Testing Required
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: Sam's dead. And then he's alive again, only to die all over again. And Dean? He's barely keeping it together. *slight AU season 1, reverse mystery spot fic, hurt!Sam, two-shot, now with Castiel's story*
1. Take It From The Top

_**Author's Note: **__This story is inspired by a "reverse mystery spot" prompt on OhSam. I was so thrilled when I found that prompt. As many of you know, I adore all things relating to Mystery Spot! So, this is slight AU set in late season one. Please enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"<em>I guess what scares me the most now is the thought that I won't be able to protect you" <em>

― _Julia Hoban_

* * *

><p>It all starts in Texas.<p>

The moment they pull into this no-name town, Dean knows there'll be trouble. Sure, the locals friendly demeanor and actual willingness to buy their fake cover story is a dream come true, but there's something . . . off about the whole thing.

"You think something's wrong?" Sam echoes as they settle into their tastefully decorated motel room—another reason why it all seems wrong—and puts down their father's journal.

"I just . . ." He gestures around the room, unsure of what to say exactly. "There's something weird."

"Well, yeah." Sam replies, eyes narrowing a bit at his brother's confusion. "I mean, that's why we're here on a case—"

"Right." Dean breathes, sensing like he's losing this argument.

Sam smirks a bit, and then moves to head back out to the car to pick up the rest of their stuff. As he brushes past, Dean's hand darts out and grabs his wrist.

"Just be careful, okay?" He mutters and Sam nods, knowing what that tone means and finally comprehending that his older brother is spooked for some reason.

"Of course, Dean." Sam replies dutifully, smiling softly. "You too."

They stay like that for a moment.

"Dude, you're such a girl." Dean finally manages to say, releasing his brother's arm and trying to distance himself from the fear.

"Jerk." Sam calls as he exits the room.

"Bitch." The older Winchester brother whispers fondly.

And then it's off to work.

* * *

><p>"Three hours!" Sam exclaims as he douses the grave with lighter fluid. "That's got to be a new record for us."<p>

"Yeah, well, it wasn't that hard to figure out." Dean mumbles, sprinkling salt, yet still feeling somewhat taken aback. They'd talked to one witness who sent them to the library and lo and behold, the exact information they needed to point them in the direction of the spirit had been lying out on the main reading table.

Just sitting there.

Like it was waiting for them.

Not suspicious at all.

"You still feel like something's wrong." Sam says, stepping back as his brother tosses the rest of the salt on the grave. The youngest pulls out a match, lights it and then drops it on the grave. In the firelight, the two brothers face each other and etched on Dean's face is sheer fear. "What is it?"

"I don't know." Dean huffs in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "Didn't this seem too easy to you?"

Sam thinks on it for a second and then adds, "Well, yeah, but—"

"No buts!" His brother shakes his head. "This was way too easy! Someone wanted us to be here."

"Okay," The youngest Winchester replies, trusting his brother's gut on this. "What do you want to do? Stick around for a few more days and see if anyone tracks us down?"

An alarm bell goes off in his being.

"No, no." He says quickly. The idea of staying one more second in this town is freaking him out and he can't help but feel like he and Sam are sitting ducks here. They need to get out and get somewhere safe—

"Dean." Sam places a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "What's got you so spooked?"

"I don't know." Dean confesses softly. "Sammy, we just need to leave—"

"Yeah, okay." Sam agrees. "Let's just head back to the room—"

Sam's face scrunches up for a second. He frowns somewhat and then presses two fingers to his temple.

"Sam?" The dread hardens into sheer panic. "Sammy?"

The frown turns into a grimace as pain becomes evident on his little brother's face.

"Okay." Dean breathes, forcing himself to take control of the situation because panic isn't going to do any good. "Sam, is it a vision?"

Sam nods, then groans as his knees buckle.

"Easy!" Dean shouts, reaching for his brother and easing them both to the grass. "Just breathe through it, okay?" He rubs comforting circles on his brother's back, like he used to do when they were kids and tries to school the fear that he's sure is evident in his gaze.

Sam needs him to be strong for this.

Blood begins to trickle from Sam's nose.

"Sam?"

The trickle becomes a flow.

"Sam!"

His brother's complexion grows paler and immediately, with a stunning, horrifying clarity, Dean realizes that this isn't a normal vision. Whatever Sam's seeing—whatever he's suffering—is going to kill him if Dean can't get it under control.

"Okay, okay," He takes a breath, forces himself to calm down—calm down? How can he calm down when Sam's dying right in front of him!—and then pulls out his phone. "Hold on, Sam, I'm getting help." He wraps a hand around his brother's pulse point and tries to reassure himself that everything's going to be fine. He barks the address to the 9-1-1 operator and then places the phone away from him.

"D'n?" Glassy hazel eyes stare upwards at him.

"I'm here, Sam." A tear snakes down his cheek, but he can't wipe it away, not when it might obscure his view of his brother's face. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sam's pulse stops.

"No." Dean whispers.

This can't be happening. The paramedics are still five minutes away.

"Sammy!" Training cuts through the haze of panic and he begins to do CPR, but he can tell that it's not having any effect because Sam's not breathing. His skin is ashen, his eyes are dull and this can't be happening.

"Sam!" He's sobbing now, pulling his brother's corpse—no, no, it's still Sam; Sam's okay—and his brain is trying to figure out a logical way to describe what's going on, but it's too much. He can't process this.

Sam's dead.

"Sammy."

But he was just here. They were just talking and joking and this was supposed to be a simple hunt! How could this happen? Dean's supposed to be able to protect him from things like this—

A vision killed his brother.

Sam's dead.

"But we were just starting to be a family again!"

Dean's sobs fill the air.

* * *

><p>He opens his eyes and he's in the motel room, Sam standing above him.<p>

"Hey." He greets with a small grin. "You should've told me you were tired. We could've put off those interviews until—"

With renewed strength, Dean practically tosses himself off the bed and throws his arms around his baby brother. The force of this embrace nearly sends them both hurtling backwards, but Sam straightens up.

"Uh, Dean?" His brother's perplexed voice sounds by his ear, but Dean just hugs tighter. Sam slowly returns the hug, albeit still confused.

"You died, Sammy." The older brother's voice breaks as he steps back, wiping a stray tear away. "I watched you die."

Sam's face immediately alights with concern and he wraps his hand around his brother's wrist, trying to ground him in the here and now.

"It was just a dream, man." The youngest Winchester assures him. "I'm okay."

"I just . . ." His voice cracks and he glances away, somewhat ashamed for this display of emotion.

"I'm okay." Sam repeats, softer now. "I'm still here, Dean."

There's a moment of silence as Dean nods, taking that information in.

"We need to leave, Sam." That nagging feeling is back with full force and Dean can't help but feel like a caged lion, trapped for someone else's viewing.

"Leave?" Sam echoes. "But the case—?"

"We'll call Bobby or Dad." Dean informs him, going to his duffel and tossing the few things he took out back into it. "I just . . . I can't risk this, Sam."

_I can't risk you, Sam._

"Okay." Sam, for once, doesn't question his decision and moves to the bathroom to retrieve his toothbrush. The door closes and Dean sighs raggedly. Dream or not, it seemed awfully real. The raw grief is still coursing through his system, like he truly experienced it—

There's a crash from the bathroom.

"Sam?" Dean calls out, distracted by packing.

There's no reply.

"Sam, dude, what did you—?"

He moves to the bathroom door and opens it.

"Sam?"

Lifeless eyes stare up at him from the shower. A rumpled towel is by his brother's legs and dimly, Dean puts together the fact that Sam must've tripped and fallen.

Only Sam could end up cracking his skull on the shower floor.

"Sammy?"

There's blood seemingly everywhere, exacerbated by the small puddles of water left over from the shower he took earlier, but Dean doesn't care. He sinks down; his legs no longer able to support him and grabs his brother's cooling hand within his own.

"Sam?" His voice barely above a whisper, the shock setting in.

Sam's dead.

Again.

* * *

><p>His eyes fly open and Sam's once more standing over him.<p>

"Hey." He greets again with that same small smile. "You should've told me you were—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish because Dean's hugging him fiercely once more.

"Dean?" Sam asks. "Is there something—?"

"Sit down." He says harshly instead, pointing to the bed. The adrenaline and the grief are still surging within him and he can't figure out what's going on, but he sure as hell isn't going to experience it anymore.

"What is it?" His little brother questions, sitting.

"Sam, I've watched you died twice—"

"What?" Sam breathes, eyes widening in shock. "But how—"

"—and we need to get the fuck out of this town, okay?" He sighs, aggravated and runs a hand through his hair.

"But the hunt—"

"Screw the hunt!" The older brother practically screams. "No hunt is worth your life!"

There's a pause.

"Okay, Dean." Sam says softly. "Let's go."

"Good." He smiles, actually pleased that they're taking action. "Grab the duffels and let's head out the car."

Sam nods and reaches for the bags while Dean quickly packs up the weapons. They move out the door and head across the parking lot to the car.

Dean doesn't see the speeding car, hurtling towards him, but Sam does.

The last thing Dean can see is brother shoving him out of the way and being hit in his place.

"Sammy!"

* * *

><p>"Hey." Sam's standing over him once more. "You should've told me you were tired. We could've put off those interviews until tomorrow."<p>

"Sam?" He whispers, unsure if a loud voice will shatter this illusion or dream.

"Yeah?" His brother tilts his head to the side in confusion. "Everything okay? You look like crap." He places a warm—not cold, thank God—hand to his forehead. "No fever." Hazel eyes lock onto his. "You okay?"

"You keep dying."

A pause; Sam blinks.

"I . . . what?"

But Dean doesn't even get that far because Sam's cellphone starts ringing. So, of course, his brother crosses towards it and doesn't see the shoe on the floor or the knife.

It's actually quite funny, in a morbid, awful sort of way. The way Sam goes flying and perfectly impales himself with the knife is the stuff of weird, _Ripley's Believe It Or Not_ stories.

Needless to say, Sam dies with that one too.

And Dean wakes up.

* * *

><p>"A time loop?" Sam repeats and it's a miracle that they've managed to make it to the diner next door the motel. It's a blessing that they're even drinking coffee right now and that Sam hasn't managed to somehow kill himself with it.<p>

"You've died four times now, Sam." He grits. "Four fucking times."

"Yeah, I'm getting that." His brother replies, taking a measure sip of his coffee. "It's just . . . a time loop? That's weird, even for us—"

"Can we just focus back on the part where we break it and you stop dying on me?" His tone is clipped and for a moment he regrets the way Sam's face falls. Then again, if Sam's alive to be offended, he'll take over dead Sam any day.

"Well, time loops could be caused by a lot of things." His little brother muses. "A spell is probably the most common."

"More coffee?" A waitress comes over with a huge, steaming pot of coffee and Dean quickly shakes his head no.

"No, thanks." Sam rewards her with a smile and she grins back. Turning back around, she trips on her own shoelace and the pot of boiling coffee goes flying.

It spills all over Sam's head, seemingly eating through his skin as it burns it and Dean screams out, but there's nothing he can do because Sam is—

* * *

><p>"Hey." Sam smiles. "You should've told me you were—"<p>

Dean just screams.

* * *

><p>"So, I've died how many times now?" Sam asks him as he deposits the dollar bill into the vending machine.<p>

"Five." He mumbles, wanting to get the hell out of here, but unable to deny his brother a snack.

"Okay, and you don't know what's causing it?" Sam's objective now, something that makes Dean grateful. Sure, any normal person would freak out if they learned they'd died and come back to life multiple times, but Sam sees the fear on his brother's face and knows that someone has to be strong enough for the both of them.

God, he loves his brother.

"No."

"All right." Sam mumbles.

The door bill is spit back out. The younger brother grimaces and pushes it back in.

"Damn." He curses as it comes back out once more. "C'mon!"

He shoves the machine and immediately, Dean realizes what's about to happen.

"Sam!"

There's a splat and all he can see is his brother's arm extended from underneath the machine and it reminds him of the house dropping on the Wicked Witch in the _Wizard of Oz_ and then—

* * *

><p>He's back.<p>

* * *

><p>"Okay, Dean, just relax, okay?"<p>

"Sorry, Sammy." He continues to duck tape his brother to the wooden chair. He's cleared the room of anything even remotely dangerous and he's definitely not getting his security deposit back, but who the hell cares if Sam stays alive? This won't keep his brother here forever, but at least it will buy him some time.

That is, if Sam doesn't manage to kill himself with it first.

"Just tell me what's going on." His little brother urges, eyes wide with a trace of fear, but mostly concern.

"It's a time loop where you keep dying." Dean tells him, but he doesn't bother with too many details since he'll probably be restarted. "I need you to stay here."

He moves towards the door.

"But Dean—!"

He's rushes into the library, crashing into a man with cerulean blue eyes, wearing a rumpled trench coat.

"My apologies." He tells Dean, but the older Winchester doesn't have time for this and heads from the books on the town's history. Skimming it, he doesn't find anything out of the ordinary and moves onto the next book.

Twenty minutes later, nothing.

"Dammit!" He screams hurling the book away.

There's a crash and with horror, he sees Sam, bleeding, under a pile of books and a bookshelf that Dean's flying book knocked over.

He just killed his brother.

* * *

><p>"Hey. You should've told me you were . . . Dean? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"<p>

* * *

><p>He doesn't even realize Sam's cleaning the guns until it's too late and he sees his brother's brain matter on the ceiling and the sheets.<p>

* * *

><p>He doesn't get out of bed after that last one.<p>

He huddles in the sheets, ignores his brother and frantic pleas and just shuts down. His heart aches and he can't figure out a way to stop the pain, to stop Sam from dying.

He's a failure as a big brother.

"Hang on." Sam tells him, reaching for the cellphone plugged into the wall. "I'm calling for—"

Dean doesn't need to turn around to figure out what's happened.

The smell of burnt wiring makes it pretty obvious.

* * *

><p>"Dad, it's me. We're in Texas and I don't know if you'll even get this message, but call me back. Please. I'm in a time loop where Sam keeps dying and I . . ." A dark chuckle. "I don't know what to do. I can't break free. Just . . . call me."<p>

* * *

><p>It's been a month and Dean doesn't know what he's going to do.<p>

Sam keeps dying, Dean keeps failing and no matter what he does, he can't keep Sam alive for more than a few hours. If he's lucky, they'll make it to the town line, only for his little brother to suddenly get a vision that kills him. Whatever is going on is confining them to this town.

"You okay?"

"No."

Sam's brow furrows.

"You want to get out of here?"

"We can't."

He's tried, but as soon as they get to the town line, the day resets.

"Sure, we can." Sam informs him. "We could call Bobby and get him to send someone else."

"I guess."

He called Bobby, but all he got was a voicemail. He must've been out on a hunt of his own.

"Dean." Hazel, puppy dog eyes meet his and normally, Dean would be swayed to confess then and there, but he doesn't have the heart to go through this routine again.

Sam will die today and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"You keep dying, Sam." He tries half-heartedly. "And I can't save you."

"I'm dying?"

"It's a time loop—one that I can't break."

"Then, you're missing something." Sam interjects softly and confused, Dean waits for an explanation. "You've always been able to put it together." Sam beams at him. "If we just take another look—"

A ceiling tile falls and strikes his brother's head.

Dean doesn't even have time to process it before he—

* * *

><p>He wakes up once more to see those familiar hazel eyes looking down at him, that warm smile greeting him and all at once, Dean feels sick.<p>

* * *

><p>The man with the trench coat is sitting at the very back booth of the diner and Dean doesn't know why, but it strikes him as odd. He's memorized nearly everyone's patterns of movement and they've all remained constant.<p>

Except for trench coat guy over there.

First, he was in the library. Then, Dean spotted him in the motel parking lot and now he's here, sitting in the booth reading a clearly dated newspaper.

"Dean?" Sam follows his gaze to the other man. "What is it?"

"Just . . ." He rises from the booth, eyes locked on the man. "Just stay put."

Sam doesn't say anything for a few moments.

"Yeah, okay." It's clear he wants an explanation and if he manages to live through this day, he'll get one.

Dean moves to sit down in the booth and the man with cerulean eyes doesn't even look up.

"Dean Winchester." He greets, monotone.

"So, you are responsible for this loop." Dean growls, pulling out his gun and pointing at the man's head. "Undo it. Now."

"I'm afraid the test hasn't concluded yet." The man flips the page of the newspaper, unperturbed by the loaded gun in front of him.

"Test?" Dean repeats, but the man doesn't elaborate. "Look, you don't stop this loop, I'll kill you." He means it too. He won't hesitate to protect his brother's life.

"Your gun cannot harm me."

Dean fires off a shot; the bullet just bounces off the man.

"As I said," The man begins, cerulean eyes finally locking onto the hunter's. "Your gun cannot harm me."

"What kind of demon are you?"

"Demon?" The man's eyes flash a bright blue and then return back to normal in a quick second. "I am not an abomination."

"I don't care what you are as long as you undo this loop!"

"The test hasn't concluded yet."

"What test?" He hisses, but he can hear choking and out of the corner of his eyes, he seems Sam clutching his throat and it's game over.

Sam's gone and Dean—

* * *

><p>He opens his eyes, determined to make the trench coat man end this game.<p>

* * *

><p>"Why are you testing me?"<p>

Time is frozen, another one of the man's mysterious powers. Dean's never encountered a creature like this before and as such, doesn't have an effective way to deal with it.

"That is none of your concern."

"Says who?" Dean snorts.

"My superiors."

The man falls silent, studying the same newspaper.

"You can't keep doing this." Dean appeals, voice cracking. "Sammy is my little brother. It's my job to protect him, but how can I save him if you keep rigging things?"

"Rigging things?" The man echoes, clearly unfamiliar with the expression.

"You're making things unfair!" He sounds almost like a petulant child, but he doesn't care. So long as Sam makes it out alive, he will do anything. Sam is his main priority.

"Ah." The man replies, frowning somewhat. "My apologies. It was not I that designed the test."

"Then, who—?"

Time unfreezes and the man vanishes.

"Everybody gives us your money! This is a robbery!"

"Shit." Dean breathes, turning around, disbelief in his tone, because seriously? Robbers? How unlikely is that?

"Okay, just take it easy." Sam, of course, putting himself in danger and making himself a target to keep the other patrons safe. "Here's my wallet."

He holds it out to the masked man.

"Sammy—!"

A gun is quickly pointed at him.

"Stay back, buddy!"

The guy is shaking like a leaf, his trigger finger tensing.

"Easy!" Sam cautions and there's a gunshot and before Dean knows it, Sam's bleeding on the floor. The other patrons scream and the robbers flee, but the older Winchester just sits there, holding his brother's hand and waits.

It doesn't restart.

"What?" He whispers.

Sam's not breathing anymore, but still, they're both still here.

"Reset!" Dean shouts, but nothing occurs. "Sammy!"

Sam's cold to the touch now and fuck, this is bad, this is really bad. The loop he wanted so badly to be free of is finally gone, but now, so is Sam.

"The test has concluded." The trench coat man states. "I thank you for your participation—"

"Wait!" Dean shouts, desperate. "Bring him back!" He puts Sam down, gently on the ground. "You can do that, right? Bring my brother back—"

"That goes against my orders—"

"Screw your orders!" Dean screams. "Fix my brother! You did this!"

"I will offer you a deal." Cerulean blue eyes flash an electrifying blue. "Your life for his."

"Deal." Dean agrees quickly. "Anything for Sam."

"I see." The man nods, taking this in.

"Fix him!" Dean yells and the man nods.

"I will set things back to the way they were." He nods to himself, as if pleased. "You will not remember all that occurred here." The man steps back. "Goodbye, Dean Winchester."

There's the sound of the fluttering of wings and then nothing.

* * *

><p>"Three hours!" Sam exclaims later in the Impala as they put that town behind them in the rear view mirror. "That's got to be a new record for us."<p>

"Yeah, it was pretty easy, wasn't it?" Dean remarks, pleased to be out of that odd place.

"Where to next?"

"Wherever the road takes us."

Sam just nods and turns up the music.

Dean can't help like he's forgetting something important, but glancing at his brother's in the passenger seat, it quickly vanishes, replaced by relief. Sam's with him and they're together once more.

Together, they can face the world.

Together, they can do anything.

"What are you smiling for?" Sam prods, curious.

"Nothing much." He pauses. "Bitch."

"Jerk." Sam replies immediately.

Dean just chuckles.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>__I've got a part two of this story from Castiel's POV if anyone is interested, but if not, this story is complete. I hope you enjoyed it! I had a blast writing it. Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


	2. Everything to Me

_**Author's Note: **__I couldn't resist posting Castiel's side of the story, especially since I got a lot of questions about what he was doing and what was going on. Hopefully, this will help clear up any confusion. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"<em>Rules are for children. This is war, and in war the only crime is to lose." <em>

― _Joe Abercrombie_

* * *

><p>Heaven is pure.<p>

Heaven is orderly.

Heaven is light.

These three tenants are what his life consists of. Ever since he came into existence, he has learned about the beauty of Heaven and how, if he's worthy, he will be chosen to protect it. He will lay down his life for it without hesitation. Whatever the will of Heaven is, he will achieve it. Whatever his superiors ask of him, he will do it without question.

For the glory of Heaven and the honor of his Father, Castiel will serve admirably.

"Castiel."

He stands, the voice coming from somewhere unknown, surrounding him like an embrace. This is the way Heaven works, all of the angels connected together, working towards achieving their ultimate goal together.

Whatever that is, Castiel knows not nor does he need to know. All that matters is that Heaven succeeds.

"I am ready." He's been preparing for this moment all his life, the chance for himself to prove himself to his superiors, to show that he can protect and enhance Heaven.

"Then, begin." His superior commands.

In a flutter of wings, Castiel vanishes.

* * *

><p>Earth is stunning.<p>

Their Father's creation is beautiful, with a cerulean sky that seems to stretch on for an eternity with dollops of fluffy clouds. The sun warms his vessel's skin and as he allows himself to stand in the grassy field of the park, a small smile graces his lips.

This surely must be paradise for his Father's creations.

"Get out of the road, you fucking idiot!" Someone shouts as a car rushes by.

Humans, on the other hand, are bizarre.

The people are rude and pushy, brushing past the angel with no apology, no word of kindness. He moves on the sidewalk and tries to form an opinion of them. Crossing the street, he's cursed at and quickly, his disdain for his Father's creatures grows. Nowhere is anyone giving thanks for their lives; nowhere is anyone caring for the Earth as they should.

Humans are selfish.

If it were in his power, he would smite some of them. The ensuing panic would bring them back to the side of righteousness. Fear is the best teacher for creatures such as these. But, he has a mission and he must achieve it. If he did commendably, perhaps then, Heaven would allow him the privilege of schooling the humans.

Today, though, he has a test to conduct.

* * *

><p>"Sam, dude, look!" The older brother smirks, pointing towards the diner's menu. "Twenty different kinds of pie." He chuckles. "Twenty, Sam."<p>

The youngest rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Your arteries, man." Then softer, "Wait, they've got peppermint?"

The eldest beams, chuckling.

Castiel watches from the counter, invisible to everyone around him, and goes over the information he's obtained. The older brother—Dean—is the future vessel of Michael, the future savior of the world and Heaven. The younger—Sam—is Lucifer's chosen vessel and an abomination, though he doesn't know it yet. Demon blood courses through his veins, begging to be purged and spilt on the soil of the Earth.

The angel's fingers brush by the hilt of his sword. It would be too easy—child's play really—to cut down the monster before his eyes. Dean wouldn't be able to overpower him. No earthly thing could stop him.

One strike and it would be over.

Yet, it isn't his place to make that choice.

"Hey, Sam, cherry or apple?" The older one's eyes lock onto the menu, scanning the list with an intensity not usually reserved for a list of pies.

"Try something new." Sam urges.

"Can't mess with the classics though." Dean muses and Castiel relaxes somewhat, observing the two.

The mission is simple—find the easiest way to set the Apocalypse rolling. Test Michael's vessel and see the fastest way to make him shatter. Once that is achieved, report back his findings to Heaven and his superiors will best determine the way to proceed.

In other words, break Dean Winchester's spirit.

Castiel smirks.

This should be interesting.

* * *

><p>The test has been conducted before on Dean.<p>

A year ago, another angel had tried to achieve the result required using John Winchester. As more time passed; however, the older Winchester brother seemed too reluctant to make the sacrifice needed to end the test.

The willingness to lay down his own life in exchange for someone else's—that's the only way to end the test successfully.

Yet, with John Winchester, Dean didn't make that choice.

His superiors deliberated, consulted other texts and finally, in their wisdom, came up with another course of action. They confirmed the result of the failed test when John Winchester passed away and Dean did nothing to try and bring him back.

It soon became clear that another test needed to be executed by another angel.

"We have chosen you, Castiel." They told him and he felt a swell of pride rush through his vessel's veins as he relieved the memory. "You will find the vessel for Michael and you will administer the test. This time, you shall use the vessel's brother as the target."

"As you will it." The angel replied dutifully.

In a flutter of wings, he found himself on Earth.

* * *

><p>He's staged a hunt, making sure to keep the townspeople compliant with a bit of grace. Manipulating thoughts isn't a hard thing to do, especially with a creatures as simple as humans. He left the clues out to ensure the brothers showed up to vanquish the "ghost" that Castiel had created. The only thing that was left was to set up the loop.<p>

In the four corners of the town, he cast the spell using his grace. Should Dean try to flee, the day would immediately reset. They would not be able to escape until the test ended, either by Dean's success or Heaven determining that no further information could be gleaned.

Now, the games could begin.

* * *

><p>The boys had shown up, predictably.<p>

They followed the clues, like toys being shuffled about by children and as Castiel knew they would, they found the grave.

"Three hours!" Sam tells his brother, lighter fluid drenching the open grave. "That's got to be a new record for us."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't that hard to figure out." Dean shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable. He senses something is off and perhaps Castiel hasn't covered his tracks as well as he thought. It worries him and perhaps the angel needs to start anew, but this is his first attempt and he would hate to fail already. Salt glistens in the moonlight as the eldest Winchester sprinkles it on the grave.

"You still feel like something's wrong." Sam points out and Castiel grimaces, not liking where this turn in conversation is going. He needs to begin the test before it's too late. He's clearly underestimated Dean's powers of perception and the test might end before it even begins.

He snaps his fingers and immediately Sam grimaces in pain. Dean instantly focuses all his attention on his brother and Castiel observes as the situation quickly deteriorates. Sam collapses with Dean trying to hold him upright and keep him grounded.

"Easy!" Dean shouts, but his brother's head lolls onto his shoulder and it's clear that Sam is barely hanging on. The comforting circles that Dean's rubbing on Sam's back isn't helping. "Just breathe through it, okay?"

The faint rise and fall of Sam's chest is barely reassuring to his brother and as Castiel waits, Sam's life slips away. He observes the eldest Winchester's attempts to revive his brother—all in vain—until he begins to sob. It's slightly odd to see Michael's vessel weep openly for someone so undeserving as Lucifer's vessel. Then again, he supposes even their Almighty Father has a reason for this, just as he has a reason for everything. Castiel will just have to trust in that.

"But we were just starting to be a family again!"

There's something about that broken admission that strikes the angel and stirs up something unfamiliar in him. The older Winchester is broken, shattered by his younger sibling's death and though Castiel knows this is all part of some higher plan, he can't help but feel . . .

Bad.

He feels bad for this human.

But before he can further question these newfound feelings, the loop restarts.

* * *

><p>Dean's desperation increases with each day that goes by.<p>

It's a good sign that the test will be end successfully, but Castiel doesn't allow himself to hope that much yet. His orders are to remain until Dean says the key phrase and then—and only then, not a moment before—could the test be terminated. The older Winchester has tried twice not to escape the town, but clearly this isn't fazing him much. Dean is every inch a hunter and his stature indicates someone not used to defeat or giving up. That being said, facing repeated failures is sure to hurt any person—even someone as determined as Dean—and Castiel can't help but wonder if the test is somewhat . . . unfair in its execution.

"You have concerns, Castiel?"

He shuts his vessel's eyes and lets himself feel the warm embrace of Heaven.

"I fail to grasp how this test will turn out differently than the last one." He confesses softly. "If anything, Sam's repeated deaths seem to motivate him more."

"These are matters that you need not concern yourself with, Castiel." His superior chides and he ducks his head, ashamed because she is right, it isn't his place to question the will of Heaven.

"My apologies." He sighs softly.

"All is forgiven." His superior replies, almost relieved. "Just continue and should we deem the test should be concluded earlier, we shall inform you."

"As you will it."

And then he's alone once more.

* * *

><p>He finds himself compelled to intervene in the test.<p>

This is, of course, forbidden. The test must be administered without any interference from Heaven. The participant must make the choice of his own free will without any prodding or cajoling. Should an angel intervene, the test will be declared invalid and the angel will be severely punished. These are the rules that Castiel has sworn to follow and though he knows the consequences will be grave, he wants to help.

He places himself in the library, allowing himself to be seen by the other humans. The librarian at the front desk smiles at him and he forces himself to nod back in acknowledgement before heading past the rows of books to the small tables. He sits and waits. Awkwardly, he wonders what he should do now. This is his first act of rebellion and part of him is terrified that his superiors will come and punish him.

No one comes though.

He allows himself to relax back in the chair.

"What kind of book are you looking for, honey?" The librarian stands before him, a stack of books in her hands. She's a matronly woman of about 50 and he wonders why she's showing such kindness to a stranger.

"I . . ." His voice falters and the woman chuckles.

"Nothing to be ashamed of coming to the library, young man." She plops down beside him, her books piled on the table. "Between you and me, I wish more people your age would read. A book is really a wonderful thing."

"I do not require a book to read—" He tries to brush her off, increasingly becoming embarrassed by all of her attention.

"Oh, sugar, no one requires a book to read!" She exclaims, patting his back. "People read because they love it!"

"I see." He doesn't really, but he wants to get out of this situation as fast as possible. He rises from the chair. "Thank you. Perhaps, another time." Then, he's making his escape to the door and he collides into another body.

"My apologies." He mutters as he comes face to face with Dean Winchester. The older brother reminds him of a caged, wild animal, dying to break free. His eyes are tinged with a desperation that Castiel has only seen once or twice before. He wants to say something more—apologize, perhaps?—but Dean brushes past him and the moment is over.

And Castiel realizes that he's in trouble here.

* * *

><p>He stands in the motel parking lot, unsure of what do next.<p>

Dean can see him, of that Castiel is sure, but the angel can't bring himself to care. The more he watches the eldest Winchester's mental state deteriorate, the guiltier he feels. His superiors are not going to be pleased with him for this breach of protocol, but what can he do?

One way or another, this test needs to end.

The question is, how?

* * *

><p>He isn't surprised that Dean catches on.<p>

It's not like Castiel put his all into hiding himself from Dean. In fact, the angel actually tried to make himself more visible. His superiors, if they knew, hadn't tried to stop him yet, so Castiel kept going.

"Dean Winchester." He mutters as the eldest brother slides into the booth across from him. His hands are trembling, like he's been running on sheer adrenaline for days. In a way, he has, Castiel supposes.

"So, you are responsible for this test. Undo it. Now." In a flash, the angel finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. He wants to chuckle at the absurdity of it—a gun, really? Like that could hurt him!—but he can see how close Dean is to falling over the edge into insanity. Humans aren't strong like angels—they can suffer a loss and keep going. They can't make the ultimate sacrifice in the name of some higher plan.

Humans are, after all, selfish.

"I'm afraid the test hasn't concluded yet."

"Test?" The man's eyes widen ever so slightly, but Castiel refuses to disclose any more information. The test is probably invalid now, but until his superiors stepped in, he has to keep going, as much as it pained him to do so. "Look, you don't stop this loop, I'll kill you."

The threat hangs in the air.

"Your gun cannot harm me."

The impact of the gun hitting his vessel's flesh almost tickles. The bullet bounces off and hits the floor.

"As I said," He repeats. "Your gun cannot harm me."

Dean's eyes flash, murderous intent evident in them.

"What kind of demon are you?" He growls and Castiel's temper flares up at that.

"Demon?" A surge of grace courses through his vessel's veins and he reigns it in, trying to remind himself that Dean doesn't know any better and will not know any better for a few more years. "I am not an abomination."

Dean isn't fazed.

"I don't care what you are as long as you undo this loop!"

"The test hasn't concluded yet." He grits through clenched teeth. He spies Sam in the back, eating some of his salad and the angel nods his head to himself.

"What test?" But soon, Sam eclipses his attention and Castiel gets out of the situation. He finds himself on a grassy hill, near the town line and as he faces skyward, he grimaces.

"What have I done?"

He's broken the rules of the test.

He's rebelled against his superiors.

"What have I done?" He whispers.

He stands there until the day resets.

* * *

><p>Dean finds him, not that Castiel is surprised.<p>

The eldest Winchester seems to be able to get anything accomplished once he gets his mind set on something. The angel sighs softly and snaps his fingers, freezing the area around them. The last thing he needs is for another person to witness his powers. He's in enough trouble as it is, though surprisingly, his superiors hadn't stepped in yet. Either they were clueless about the change of events—which Castiel doubted—or they were allowing it to happen for some unknown purpose.

"Why are you testing me?" He questions sharply.

"That is none of your concern." The angel answers, wishing that there was someway that he could get out of this situation.

"Says who?" Dean challenges.

"My superiors."  
>There's silence for a few seconds and Castiel glances down at the dated newspaper he's been carrying around in the hopes of remaining inconspicuous.<p>

"You can't keep doing this." Dean's voice cracks and instantly, the angel is taken aback by the sheer emotion in his voice. He doesn't know much about humans, but from what little he's gleaned, crying isn't socially accepted for men. Yet, here is Dean, on the verge of doing just that and for what exactly? His baby brother? The future vessel of Lucifer? "Sammy is my little brother. It's my job to protect him, but how can I do that if you keep rigging things?"

"Rigging things?" This term of slang is not familiar to him. He doesn't recall his superiors going over it either.

"You're making things unfair!" Dean protests, voice a near whine.

"Ah." He mumbles, seeing how it could be perceived that way. "My apologies. It was not I who designed the test."

"Then, who—"

Time unfreezes with the arrival of the robbers and instantly, Castiel knows that this time will be different. He sense the change, knows his superiors are behind these new people entering into his loop. When Sam gets shot and dies, he waits for the loop to reset.

It does not.

"It's over." He breathes, though he wonders why this is the outcome that Heaven has ordained.

"The test has concluded." Castiel informs Dean, voice neutral. "I thank you for your participation—"

"Wait!" Dean scream, nearly hysterical. "Bring him back! You can do that, right? Bring my brother back—"

"That goes against my orders—" It's clear what Heaven wants him to do and he's defied them enough already. It was foolish of him to try and interact with Dean. Being with human has clouded his judgment and this was Heaven's way of trying to help him regain his perspective.

"Screw your orders!" Dean roars. "Fix my brother! You did this!"

And in that moment, it hits him.

Maybe the test isn't over; maybe Heaven simply just gave Dean the push he needed to make the right choice.

"I will offer you a deal. Your life for his." There's so much riding on Dean's answer, more than he'll ever fully know.

"Deal." He agrees, much too quickly. "Anything for Sam."

"I see." It would seem they had found Dean's weakness after all. Though Sam was an abomination, the love that Dean held for him would surely win out against all odds. This information would prove invaluable to Heaven.

"Fix him!" Dean shouts once more and Castiel nods.

"I will set things back to the way they were." He raises a hand towards Sam's bloodied body. "You will not remember all that occurred here." The angel takes a step back, ready to end the test. "Goodbye, Dean Winchester."

And just like that, it's over.

* * *

><p>"You allowed yourself to get too close." Abigail, his supervisor reprimands. It's rare to be called before any member of the council of Heaven and Castiel knew the moment he got his summons, that he would be punished.<p>

"My apologies." He bows his head, gaze locked on the marble floor.

"You not only made contact with the subject, you allowed the subject to be informed of what was occurring." Abigail sighs, running a hand through her vessel's red hair. "You broke all of the rules."

"I saw no other way to achieve the desired result." He defends, halfheartedly. The true reason is that he was curious and he knows that she is aware of that.

"Yet, even with all of this," She meets his gaze. "You succeeded where others could not and for that, Heaven is grateful."

"It was an honor to serve." He informs her and then moves towards the door.

"Castiel?"

He turns back around to face her.

"Just be careful. There's a reason why our Father made us different from humans." She grimaces. "You'd do well to keep that in mind."

"I shall reflect upon it." He replies.

Walking out the door, he knows he's lucky to have escaped without punishment, but he can't help but wonder, what happens now? What would Heaven do to Dean and Sam next? Was achieving the Apocalypse truly that important that they would sacrifice the lives of two brothers?

Then, shaking his head, he sighs.

"It isn't my place to question."

Heaven is pure.

Heaven is orderly.

Heaven is light.

"Heaven is everything."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>__Hope that helps! Castiel's side of the story was really fun to write. I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a moment. Thanks! _


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